


One Year Later

by justinlovesart



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justinlovesart/pseuds/justinlovesart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year after the finale, Luke remembers and makes a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year Later

**Author's Note:**

> Fully canon-compliant, Luke-centric ficlet.

Luke undressed slowly, carefully folding his clothes one item at a time and laying them down on the gravel, in a neat little pile. He smiled as he did every time, imagining how Reid would have liked this, how he would have frowned upon a casually discarded shirt or scrunched-up pants.

It was only a guess, of course, as most of his thoughts about Reid were these days, including the memories of their short time together.

Naked, he slid gently into Snyder Pond, guided by the reflection of the full moon.

Night swims were for Reid.

He floated around for a while, with only enough effort to reach the center of the pond, where the moon shone the brightest. The water was releasing the last of the summer heat, but it would be cold soon, as fall was just around the corner.

At the start of summer, he remembered, he'd come here again with Noah, who was visiting from L.A. for the first time since he'd left. They'd both been hot, sweaty from a morning of sun and laughter and talking (Noah's talking mostly; Luke had been listening). At 2 o'clock they'd jumped into the pond in their underwear, looking for respite and something else.

They'd been quiet then, for a minute or two, until Luke had broken the silence: "That guy you met in L.A., last spring..."

"Matt?"

"Yes," Luke had nodded, encouraging. "Matt." Then he'd waited, looking at Noah with clear eyes.

"I don't know, Luke. I like him. In fact, I like him a lot." Noah had looked away. "But I'm not sure..." He'd put some distance between them with two vigorous strokes. "It's so soon..."

"Don't wait." _For me_. "Don't miss out on anything."

And that had been that.

They'd spent the rest of the afternoon at the pond, diving in as many times as their hearts had allowed. They'd kissed a little, even, and held each other close as old lovers do, at times.

"You're amazing," Luke had said, hearing Noah's tales of Hollywood. "I always knew you were," and this time Noah believed him.

But that night, too, had been for Reid.

Now he looked at his own glistening skin, at his wet reflection like silvery glitter. Like moonlit ashes.

One long stroke. Another.

"I'm leaving, Reid." He didn't speak loudly, because what he'd learned in their short time together was that he didn't need to raise his voice to be heard.

"Your wing is set up and running; you would be proud. Chris has worked everyone to the ground to have it ready by the end of summer." He chuckled a little. "You've passed on to him some of your most annoying qualities, if not your talent at chess. Ask the nurses."

He started to swim in earnest now, alternating between freestyle and back strokes that made his blood pump faster. He wanted the friction of water on his skin.

When he felt himself tingle, he stopped to catch his breath.

"I'm leaving," he repeated. "I've written a story about you." (And one about Noah, but he figured he'd better not tell him that). "They really liked it, in the big city." He closed his eyes and for the hundredth time that week he imagined Reid's smile while reading it.

He didn't linger on the other images, those where he'd be writing in a breezy room while Reid moved outside the open door, not always quietly, in a house that didn't look like any he'd ever seen.

"I could stay," he continued softly. "I could come here and swim with you every night. I would be fine." The last part he'd said more loudly, to make sure his lover knew he meant it. "But I want more stories to write. You see that, Reid, don't you?"

He laughed a bit at that, at what he imagined Reid would reply: "What do you mean? Hasn't Oakdale enough drama to inspire a ten–volume saga at least?"

No arguing with that.

"Plenty of drama, sure. But not enough love. Not for me."

As Luke reached the shore, he heard it distinctly. "Go," Reid was telling him. And it wasn't a permission, it was an order.


End file.
